


Lion and Lark

by Silverbreeze424



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Gen, Geralt Apologizes, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier is a good dad, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, The geraskier could be read as platonic but trust me they are in love, Travel, mostly platonic Jaskier and Ciri with some Geraskier on the side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverbreeze424/pseuds/Silverbreeze424
Summary: Jaskier finds a young girl in the woods, and realized she’s the lost princess of Cintra, and the child surprise of the Witcher he’s had something of a falling out with.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 47
Kudos: 943





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I LIVE for the Jaskier find Ciri first AU so here we go! This should be five chapters, and is almost complete! Should update every other day

Despite what a certain Witcher might think, Jaskier was rather observant, which made him the first member of his makeshift caravan to hear the crying.

“Do you hear that?” Jaskier piped up, and the leader cast him a glare. “No, I mean it, someone’s crying!”

“Bet it’s a lady lookin’ to rob some bleedin’ heart fool like you blind,” another man said, not glancing from the path ahead of him.

Jaskier huffed. “Well, I’m going to go check it out. Don’t wait up.”

“We won’t!” yet another man assured with a snicker, and the bard rolled his eyes as he stepped off the path and into the forest towards the noise. 

It probably is a thief, Jaskier thought, his hand falling to the knife on his belt just in case, but, if it isn’t…

His eyes caught on midnight blue, and he saw a shaking form wrapped in a dark blue cloak hunched against a tree, face buried in their knees. They looked so small, and despite their best efforts to muffle their sobs, a little hiccuping wail could be heard occasionally.

As Jaskier stepped closer, a branch snapped underfoot, and the person flinched, their head shooting up to stare, wide-eyed and feral, at the approaching bard. 

She was a young girl, Jaskier realized with a start, his heart clenching in his chest. Her wide blue eyes were reddened with tears and beneath the determined look of anger was a heart wrenching fear.

He drew his knife, and the girl flinched until he tossed it to the ground. He knelt down slightly, just to get on eye level with the seated child.

“Hello. I’m Jaskier. I’m a bard.” He greeted, slowly pulling out his lute and plucking a few strings to prove his point. The fear and anger turned to a curious suspicion, which Jaskier decided was an improvement. “I heard you crying, and I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“‘m fine,” she said, her voice thick with tears.

“I see that,” he agreed and stood up with a flourish. “But, in coming to you, I think my party has left me. Do you think you could accompany me to the next town?”

She stood up shakily, and again Jaskier was struck by how tiny she was. Not absurdly so, but she certainly seemed far too small to be out on her own. She nodded, shook her cloak out, and drew it tighter around her shoulders. 

“Mind grabbing my knife?” Jaskier asked, flicking his head towards the fallen dagger. Despite his falling out with the one who had given it to him, it was still one of his most valued possessions. The girl glanced at it, and then back at him, suspicion clear in her eyes. He smiled. Smart girl. “You can hold onto it until we get to town, if you’d like. Chances are you’d be better with it then me.”

Amusement crinkles at the edges of her eyes, and she kneels down to grab the knife. Despite his joke getting through, it seems the girl doesn’t trust him quite yet.

“Would you like a song?” Jaskier asks his new traveling companion as he leads her back to the road, and she looks at him like he’s grown a second head.

“And lure every monster in the forest to us? No thank you,” she said, a bit haughtily.

He grinned widely. “I like to think my art is worth the risk, but very well, I’ll obey your wishes, princess.”

The girl flinched at the nickname, her eyes going wide. Something clicked in the very back of Jaskier’s mind, the first puzzle piece falling into place. She kept walking, staring straight ahead, so Jaskier decided to ignore it for now.

“So, may I know your name?” Jaskier asked after a moment of silence, and the girl regarded him out of the corner of her eye.

“...Fiona,” she introduced after a pause, and Jaskier smiled at her.

“Fiona! A lovely name for a lovely lady!” He said, and began to pluck idly at the strings of his lute. “So, where are you headed?”

She shrugged in response, and he grinned. 

“What a coincidence! That’s exactly where I’m heading too!” He said enthusiastically, and the girl rolled her eyes, but a smile was tugging at her lips.

“The next town is not,” he shrugged in place of a town name, “but I’m sure as soon as we get there we’ll be able to find our way!”

He continued to babble for the extent of their trip, until the girl began to smile unabashedly at his jokes.

oOo

“I don’t have a lot of coin on me, and I don’t imagine you do either, so we’ll have to stay down here in the tavern for awhile.” Jaskier explained as they entered the inn and tavern in the next town. “These places can get real nasty, so call if you need anything, alright?” 

Fiona nodded, looking around at the shabby tavern with something akin to wonder in her bright blue eyes. Clearly, she hadn’t been in any such place before, and Jaskier again felt a tugging at his heart for her. 

For now, he could look after her, try to keep her safe and sheltered and fed, but he couldn’t do it forever. His life was not one that was conducive to having a child, and while he was rather sure Fiona was alone, he was equally sure she was hiding things from him.

He watched after the girl as she settled into a dark alcove and gave him a smile and a nod as she sat. He smiled back and began to play.

Despite the plethora of bad memories associated with “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher”, it was a popular song that was useful for both gathering coin and getting a feel for the crowd. He took to an empty table and climbed atop it, slamming one foot down to announce his presence and beginning to strum the first gentle chords of his chosen song.

When a humble bard,  
Graced a ride along,  
With Geralt of Rivia-

He heard her gasp from across the tavern, and despite not pausing his song for a moment, his eyes flicked up to Fiona, who was now staring at him with awe. He liked to think he was good enough to warrant that sort of reaction from all who heard his music, but he’d admit that the girl’s reaction was strange. 

No matter. Another thing to deal with later.

oOo

When his final song (a severely censored version of “The Fishmonger’s Daughter”) drew to a close, he collected the coin around him, and sauntered up to the counter.

“So? With this and my lovely performance, how about I get a meal and a room for two?” He said, laying out his coin on the counter in front of a rather unamused innkeeper.

“A room for two, and whatever’s left over from dinner.” The innkeeper bargained.

“A room for one, one fresh meal, and half your scraps.” Jaskier countered, and the innkeeper maintained his stony expression of disdain, before sighing.

“Deal,” he acquiesced, and Jaskier grinned.

“Pleasure doing business with you!” He said, snatching up the keys as soon as the innkeeper offered them and spinning around. “Send the meal up to my room, will you?”

The innkeeper huffed, but didn’t protest, and Jaskier went over to where Fiona was seated. She appeared to be half-asleep, her hair and hood hiding her eyes and her cheek propped up against her hand. Jaskier gently wrapped his hand against the table, and Fiona jolted awake. A wide grin instantly overtook her face.

“You know Geralt!” She said excitedly, and in Jaksier’s mind, another piece slid into place, and in his stomach, his heart had taken up residence.

“Ah. And um. How do you know this was a song I wrote myself, not one I had picked up on my travels?” He said, a bit nervously. The Witcher was still something of a touchy subject.

Fiona furrowed her brows, confusion, desperation, and excitement all clear on her face. “You don’t seem the type to sing another bard’s songs.”

Jaskier sighed. “I suppose you’re right. Now what do you want with the Witcher? Have a monster that needs slaying?”

“No, it’s him I need, not his service,” she admitted, looking like she was at war with herself. She was clearly hiding something important. Something she wanted to tell the bard, but couldn’t. The last piece fell into place, and Jaskier gasped.

“You’re-“ he gasped, before his hands flew to cover his mouth. No one could know that the Lost Lion Cub of Cintra was right here in this very tavern with only a bard to protect her. “Oh, oh of course this would happen,” he muttered to himself, before shaking his head and offering a hand to the increasingly confused girl still sitting in front of him. He offered her a small and hopefully reassuring smile. “Come on, cub, I think we have a lot to talk about.”


	2. Chapter 2

“If I had known I was in the presence of royalty, I would have bowed.” Jaskier said once he had shut and locked the door securely behind him. “I suppose it’s too late for that now?”

Fiona- no, Cirilla, nodded, seemingly for the lack of anything better to do, and Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s alright. Your secret is safe with me,” he said with a small smile, and again Cirilla nodded. “I haven’t seen the Witcher in awhile, but I promise, I’ll help you find him. Shouldn’t be too hard, he reeks of onion.”

Cirilla giggled, and nodded once more, more certainly this time. Jaskier grinned.

“Come, sit, food will arrive in a moment, and until then, I can tell you whatever you want to know about the Witcher,” Jaskier offered, sitting at the foot of the bed and patting the space beside him. Cirilla sat down obediently, a bit closer than Jaskier was expecting from her.

“Is he as scary as they say?” Cirilla asked first. 

“Not at all,” Jaskier said quickly. “He pretends to be all cold and gruff and emotionless, and while I’ll be the first to say he can be a bit rude, he is, fundamentally, a very kind person, I believe.”

Cirilla nodded, apparently comforted, and opened her mouth to ask another question before there was a knocking at the door. She flinched, and Jaskier gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before standing up and walking to the door. A woman stood outside the door, a platter of hot food in one hand and a bag of random scraps in the other.

“Thank you, dear,” he said with a wink, grabbing the food from her and closing the door before she had a chance to respond. He gently placed the platter on Cirilla’s lap, and then resumed his place beside her.

“Eat up, cub,” Jaskier said with a smile.

“What about you?” She asked, concern clear on her face even as she began to tear into a warm roll of bread.

He held up the bag and gave it a shake. “Got all I need right here,” he assured, before laying down the bag and pulling out a misshapen roll of his own. “Before I got famous, I used to have food tossed to me more often than coin- unbelievable, I know- but it served me just as well. Who was I to deny a free meal, even if the meal was tossed to me by less-than-adoring fans?” he told her, before pausing to take a bite out of the roll. 

“You know, I met your Witcher one such night- I was performing, and the crowd was pelting me with bread- the primary ingredient of that bread was gravel, I swear- and Geralt was the only one not verbally booing me- though, in hindsight, I’m sure he was mentally-, so I grabbed the food I could, and sauntered over to his table. I asked him what he thought of my performance, and when he didn’t respond immediately, do you know what I said?”

She cocked her head, her pale cheeks full of unchewed food, making her look like a curious chipmunk. Jaskier’s heart swelled with fondness.

“I said, ‘come on, you wouldn’t want to keep a man with bread in his pants waiting!’”

Cirilla giggled, and Jaskier extended a hand to keep the bowl of soup in her lap from splashing. He smiled at her and continued to pick at his roll, pushing down the bitter memories of his most recent meeting with the Witcher.

Through the night, Jaskier continued to tell story after story about the great Witcher, until they had both finished their meals, and Cirilla slumped against him, dead asleep. 

Carefully, he laid her out on the bed, and watched over her until he himself began to fall asleep.

oOo

He awoke to gentle whimpers and none-too-gentle movement beside him, and when he jolted awake, he found Cirilla thrashing in the bed beside him, her face contorted with imagined pain. His heart clenched painfully, and he slowly reached out and ran his hands through her hair. In his experience, waking someone from a nightmare suddenly would usually result in violence, so he just pet her hair until she soothed, and her bright eyes flickered open. Cirilla looked over at him, and as soon as she caught his eyes, her own began to well up with tears.

“Oh come on now, I’m not-“ he was cut off as the girl practically threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own tight around the back of his neck. He only hesitated for a moment before wrapping one arm around her waist and cradling the back of her head with the other.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently as the sobs started to subside.

“I’m glad you found me,” she said in place of an answer, and Jaskier hugged her closer.

oOo

After getting breakfast and picking up some supplies for the journey ahead, Jaskier and Cirilla left the town to begin searching for the Witcher.

“How will we find him?” Cirilla asked a bit hopelessly as they left the town.

“A Witcher rarely goes unnoticed when traveling through a town, and Geralt is no exception! We ask after a white-haired Witcher, and if he’s been through, then we’ll have a lead!”

“And if he hasn’t?” 

“Then we’ll head to the next town! We’ll find your Witcher before you know it!”

She nodded, but clearly wasn’t too taken with the plan.

“Don’t worry dear, I’ll travel the whole continent by your side if that’s what it takes to find him.”

She smiled at him, and nodded again.

oOo

”Why aren’t you traveling with Geralt anymore?” Cirilla asked as they neared the next town, and Jaskier felt himself tense, before he let out a shaky sigh.

“I considered him a friend, and he made it very clear that he did not return the sentiment. He said some very cruel things to me, my dear.”

Cirilla frowned. “I thought you said he was nice.”

“He is, but he was… angry, and I was not helping.”

Cirilla’s frown deepened, before she nodded her head, apparently determined. “I’ll make him apologize as soon as we find him.”

Jaskier couldn’t help but laugh, even as Cirilla pouted at him. “I’ll hold you to that.”

oOo

Upon reaching town, Jaskier found it was too late to perform, so he saddled up to the innkeeper's desk instead, and donned his most charming smile.

“Has a Witcher passed through here?” He asked, and she nodded wearily.

“Aye, a few days back. Didn’t want his kind ‘round, so we told ‘im to get lost.”

Jaskier felt his insides roil with anger, but his smile didn’t waver. “I’m afraid I do need his kind. I’ve a monster I need killed. Did you see which direction he went?”

She narrowed her eyes, but nodded. “Went off to the East. Careful with that one though, they call him the Butcher of Blaviken.”

oOo

Cirilla seemed sad as she settled into bed for the night.

“What’s the matter, little lion?” Jaskier asked, strumming idly at his lute.

“They really hate Geralt, don’t they?” She said softly, staring up at the ceiling.

The bard sighed. “I’m afraid so. Humans are scared of things they don’t understand, and Witchers, unfortunately, meet that description.”

Cirilla frowned. “But they keep them safe.”

“I know, dear,” he said, but couldn’t think of any further reassurances.

“It’s not fair.”

“I know,” he repeated sympathetically, and played a soothing tune of his lute until she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence in this chapter! Very mild especially compared to canon, but be warned!

The next morning, they started towards the east, and this time Cirilla was happy to let Jaskier play his lute, humming and singing and strumming happy little songs that had Cirilla giggling and humming along.

oOo

“I don’t think we’ll make it to town before nightfall, my dear,” Jaskier said, gazing at the setting sun and not finding any town on the horizon.

Cirilla nodded. “That’s ok. We can camp.”

“As the lady demands,” he agreed with an over-dramatic bow that put a smile on Cirilla’s face. “Let us go find a good place to spend the night.”

He started into the forest, looking around until he found a small clearing. He pushed a bush out of the way, and gestured grandly towards the clearing.

“Your kingdom awaits, m’lady.”

She giggled and dropped into a formal curtsey, before brushing past him and into the clearing.

“How about you set up the bedrolls and eat some food while I gather some firewood, hm?” Jaskier requested, laying out his pack in front of the girl. She nodded, carefully kneeling down and opening the pack and Jaskier turned around and headed into the forest.

oOo

When Jaskier returned, Cirilla was seated on the bedroll, a smile pile of sticks laid out in front of her, seemingly the beginning of their campfire. Jaskier added his own wood, and began his attempts at lighting a fire while Cirilla watched.

“I never got too good at this,” Jaskier admitted, and Cirilla laughed.

“I can see that,” she teased, and took a seat beside him. “May I try?”

“Go ahead.” He handed over the pair of sticks, and it took her barely more than a few seconds before the wood lit, and she carefully added it to the pile.

He huffed and donned an overdramatic pout that had Cirilla giggling.

oOo

The next morning, they continued East, and dread sat heavy in Jaskier’s gut that had nothing to do with his exhaustion. They were getting closer to Geralt, having found a lead on their first attempt, but the bard couldn’t help but feel something was about to go terribly wrong.

oOo

That suspicion proved true around noon, when Jaskier was stopped in his tracks by an arrow thunking solidly against a tree right in front of his nose. He froze for just a moment, before wiping around to look at Cirilla, and found her looking around as well, her blue eyes wide and scared.

“You have my knife?” He asked quietly, and she nodded, reaching for it to give it back. He shook his head. “Keep it hidden. We’ll be fine if they don’t think we’re a threat.”

Quietly, a group of four men in tattered armour emerged from the bushes around the path, surrounding them easily. One held a bow, and the rest had swords, all in various states of disrepair. 

One approached from behind Cirilla, and placed a hand on her shoulder and a sword on her throat before she could react. She went shock still, and stared at Jaskier with wide, terrified eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, roaring loud and painful.

“You two look rather well off,” the one with the bow sneered, glancing from the princess to the bard. Jaskier contained a sigh of relief- they were just after coin. “How bout you hand over whatever you got before I have your pretty little daughter’s throat slit?”

Jaskier glanced at Ciri, and meaningfully tapped his hip, then his thigh. Her brows furrowed in confusion, before she nodded, just slightly. Her hand drifted slowly to her hip, where the knife was sheathed.

“Alright, alright, no need for violence,” Jaskier agreed shakily, slowly moving the case containing his lute off his back, and laying it out in front of him as he dropped into a kneel. The man with the bow leaned over to get a closer look, and in a moment, he surged up, grabbing his lute and slamming his skull against the nose of the man standing over him. He stumbled back in shock, and Jaskier didn’t give him a moment to recover before he slammed his lute over the man’s head.

“Now, Fiona!” He yelled as he did so, and quick as a flash, Cirilla drew her knife and sunk it into the man’s thigh, the shock and pain making him drop his sword and stumbled back a pace. Cirilla dropped down to grab the sword, and despite the weapon being just barely smaller than her, she held it with confidence, leveling it on the man that had held her.

The two remaining men leaned towards Jaskier, and again the bard swung his lute, smashing the bowl over the closest one’s head, shattering the thin wood. His heart ached faintly, but he didn’t hesitate to rip the body from the neck and sink the sharp broken wood into the other man.

“Come on, Fiona, let’s get out of here before the get up!” Jaskier demanded, releasing the neck of his broken instrument and rushing towards the girl. She glanced at him and nodded, running towards him and following him down the path. 

They didn’t make it far before there was the telltale thwang of a taught bowstring being released, and Jaskier had a moment to pull Cirilla in front of him, shielding her with his body before the arrow sunk into his shoulder. He grunted against the sharp stab of pain and veered them both off the path and into the bushes surrounding it.

“Jaskier!” She gasped, keeping pace in front of him, even as she kept glancing backward towards the arrow in his shoulder. He lifted his hand and- yep, it had pierced all the way through. 

“Don’t worry,” he panted, despite being rather worried himself. “Keep running, we’ll figure it out once we get to town!”

Cirilla looked worried, but she took Jaskier’s hand in hers and kept running until the town came into view. Dizzy from blood loss, Jaskier stumbled into the small town behind her, and let himself be pulled into the tavern.

“We need a room,” he heard Cirilla demand, but her voice sounded distant. He slumped against the counter, squeezing the girl’s hand like it was a lifeline.

“Of course dear,” an elderly old woman said, looking worriedly from the girl to the bard. “I’ll send for a healer. You’ll have to pay her but the room is on the house.”

Cirilla tugged at his hand, and he followed her up the stairs and into a dingy room. She slammed the door behind them, and sat him down in a chair, before finally releasing his hand.

“The healer will be here soon,” Cirilla said, and Jaskier nodded, before closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In other news, I think I’ll be adding an epilogue, just to hammer in the point that Jaskier and Geralt are In Love


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rather short, but it has my favorite line in it, so I hope you enjoy it anyway!

The next morning, Jaskier definitely didn’t feel good, but he did, at least, feel a bit better. He blinked up at the ceiling, and moved to rub at his eyes, before he found his hand was trapped. He glanced over, and found Cirilla sitting on a wooden chair, slumped over the bed, and holding his hand tightly in her own.

He smiled faintly, before sitting up and running his free hand through Cirilla’s hair.

“Come on, cub,” he said, and Cirilla’s eyes flickered open, before going wide.

“Jaskier!” She gasped, standing so suddenly the chair clattered to the floor behind her. Before he knew it, he had a lap full of princess.

“I’m ok,” he told her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his uninjured shoulder.

“‘m sorry about your lute,” she said first, and Jaskier laughed.

“It was worth losing if it meant keeping you safe. I can get another lute, but I can’t get another lion cub.”

She nodded into his shoulder. “I’m glad you're ok.”

“I can’t die until I find you your Witcher,” he teased, and Cirilla pulled back to glare at him and smack him gently upside the head.

“You aren’t just a way of finding Geralt. You mean more to me than that,” she said, her eyes growing glassy with tears, and Jaskier’s heart swelled with fondness for the little princess. He would miss her, once he turned her over to Geralt.

“I know, my dear, I’m just teasing,” he replied, and tugged her back into the hug.

oOo

Cirilla made him stay put for the rest of the day, but reluctantly agreed to leave again tomorrow. 

“The innkeeper said Geralt slayed some drowners for them, and then they sent him up to the next town to the north to deal with a wraith.”

“Good work, dear,” Jaskier praises as he finished packing his empty lute case with his belongings. He swung the case over his uninjured shoulder, and opened the door for Cirilla. The two left the inn, thanked the keeper heartily, and began to head north.

oOo

They were closing in on the town, and Jaskier felt sadness and joy in equal parts. He was happy to deliver Geralt his child surprise, but at the same time, he would miss the girl terribly, not to mention the pain that would come with seeing Geralt again. The Witcher made it very clear he was not wanted.

As they approached the town, they heard an ungodly screech, and Cirilla flinched, grabbing Jaskier’s arm.

“I bet that’s the wraith,” Jaskier said calmly. “Come on, we can wait for him in the tavern.”

oOo

Jaskier’s knee bounced rapidly as he gazed at the door, waiting for the Witcher to enter. Cirilla was equally rapt, but seemed more excited than nervous.

Eventually, the door swung open, and a large man in dark armor entered, a shriveled head held up by thin strands of greying hair in his hand. He dropped the head on a table in front of a group of disgusted men, and snatched a pouch of coin off the table before they could respond.

The Witcher turned to the innkeeper, and in the movement, his eyes caught on the bright colors of Jaskier’s doublet, and he froze. 

Jaskier felt his blood go cold, but plastered on a fake smile and waved him over. The Witcher’s eyebrows drew together, his eyes flicking to the girl beside him got a moment, before he approached. 

“So lovely to see you, Geralt! I’d introduce my companion, but I’m afraid this isn’t the right place, so I’ll allow her!” He said with false cheer as he slipped out of the booth and began towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it!” 

“Jaskier!” Cirilla begged, and a firm hand wrapped around his wrist before he could even make it beyond the table. His stomach dropped, his shoulders going slack in defeat.

“What do you want?” He said weakly, pulling ineffectively at Geralt’s grip.

“We should talk.”

Jaskier let out a hysterical bark of laughter, before rounding on Geralt with a look of grim amusement on his face and pain in his eyes.

“Oh? The great White Wolf wants to talk, does he? Whatever happened to ‘if life could grant me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!’?” Jaskier hissed, and he heard Cirilla gasp. “I’ve brought you your child, now allow me to grant you your blessing.”

Geralt’s grip loosened, and Jaskier broke free, turning around and leaving the tavern without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically I don’t think I was supposed to upload this until tomorrow but screw it. No one every accused me of being good at keeping schedules.

Something small slammed into his back, and when he turned around, he found it to be the fist of Jaskier’s companion- Cirilla, he realized belatedly, and he couldn’t even find it in himself to be relieved.

“You jerk! Maybe they’re right! Maybe Witchers are monsters!” Cirilla spat, her face flush red with anger and her blue eyes filled with rage and tears.

“Princess…”

“No!” She hissed, smacking him again. He barely felt it, but he stumbled back anyways. “You don’t get to talk to me about anything until you go after Jaskier and apologize!”

“But-“

She crossed her arms and glared, and it was effective enough to cut him off.

“I want to, but I don’t think he wants to hear it.” Geralt said quietly, pained, and Cirilla’s face softened just a little.

“Of course he does. He cares about you, he thinks you a hero, but you hurt him,” she said, and Geralt felt his heart sink even deeper. “Now go make it up to him.”

“I can’t…”

“Try,” she instructed, and sat back down. “I’ll be here, and I won’t budge until you come back with him.”

Geralt nodded mutely, and went outside.

It was raining, he realized, which meant he wouldn’t be able to tack the bard by scent, but he could easily follow the tracks his fancy shoes left in the mud.

He followed the prints towards the edge of town, where he found the bard slumped against a tree, his knees drawn up to his chest and his face buried in them.

“Jaskier…” Geralt started.

“You can tell Ciri we reconciled.”

“What?”

“She said she’d make you apologize. It’s ok, you don’t have to make up some bullshit apology, just go back and tell her we made up but I had to leave anyway.”

“Jas-“

“You’re clever, you’ll make something up. Go ahead and go back.”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snapped, and it was enough to get the bard to look up at him. His face was wet and flushed red, and the Witcher hoped it was with rain and not tears. “I’m sorry.”

“You really don’t-“

“I do. It’s true that Cirilla sent me after you, but only because I was too… too afraid to come after you on my own.”

Jaksier let out a chuckle. “The Witcher scared of the bard, hm?”

Geralt ignored him. “I was afraid that no matter what I said, you wouldn’t forgive me, and I knew I could not blame you if you didn’t. I was cruel to you, and not just on the mountain, and I have no excuse for my cruelty. You scared me, Jaskier, you made me feel human, and that terrified me. And then, on the mountain, I was just so angry, and you were soft and kind and there and I snapped. I’m so sorry, Jaskier. I didn’t mean a word I said, but I said them anyway and it hurt you. I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I shall beg you for it anyway.”

Jaskier was speechless in the face of Geralt’s long winded confession, and part of Jaskier was amused by the roll reversal.

“Geralt…” he said softly, then huffed out a laugh. “You know, I think you said more right then than you had in our entire time traveling together.”

Geralt hummed, and Jaskier laughed more earnestly. “Yeah, that’s more like it.” 

“I shouldn’t forgive you,” he sighed, and Geralt exhaled like he’d been punched. “But I think I will anyway.”

Geralt let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Jaskier laughed, standing up and threading his arm through Geralt’s, who, to his surprise, let him. “In the five minutes you’ve known her, Ciri’s taught you more manners than I’ve been able to in two decades.”

Geralt hummed, and let Jaskier lead the way back to the tavern where they left Cirilla. Once the girl saw them side by side, she grinned, and Jaskier couldn’t help but return the smile.

“Looks like you’ve already managed to tame the wolf,” Jaskier praised, breaking from Geralt to ruffle the girl’s hair. Geralt grunted in protest behind him, but when Jaskier settled in next to Cirilla and looked up at the Witcher, he could see the fondness and amusement in his eyes, and in the first time in a long while, Jaskier felt at home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue, but it’s complete for now!! Thank you all so much for reading, your support really does mean a lot!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops forgot to post the epilogue but here it is!!

“You care for him, don’t you?” Ciri asks one day, as Jaskier sets off to gather firewood, leaving the pale-haired duo alone. Three months after their reconciliation and as soon as winter began to chill the air, the trio had began the journey to Kaer Morhen.

“Yes? Have I not made that clear?” Geralt asks, glancing into the forest where Jaskier left, a bit guiltily.

“No, I mean. Romantically. You love him.”

Geralt, not for the first time, is incredibly grateful for his inability to blush. That does not, however, prevent Ciri from seeing the way his jaw clicks shut and his eyes go wide.

“Hm.”

“That’s not an answer, Geralt.” Ciri teases.

“What do you want me to say? Yes, of course I love him, how could I not? But no matter how much he speaks of forgiveness, I know I am unworthy of it. Of him.”

“You really think that?” Ciri says, frowning. 

Geralt huffs, and this time, Ciri accepts that as an answer. 

“That’s sad,” she says matter-of-factly. “But in the end, it’s not your decision to make. It doesn’t matter whether or not you think you deserve it, because he loves you either way.”

Geralt’s eyes widened even further. “He doesn’t.”

“Yes he does,” Ciri sing-songs back.

“No, he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does!”

“Who does what?” Jaskier asks as he seemingly appears out of nowhere, a bundle of sticks in his arms. Geralt jumps, unused to being snuck up upon. Seems he was too caught up in his childish back and forth with Ciri to hear his approach.

Neither Ciri nor Geralt respond, and Jaskier carefully sets the sticks in the center of camp, confusion clear on his face as he glanced between the pair.

“You should tell him.” Ciri says in a loud whisper, and Geralt stiffens. Jaskier cocks his head.

“Tell me what?” He asks, turning his big blue beautiful eyes on Geralt. 

“I’m interested in you.” Geralt blurts, trying to keep the dawning mortification off his face.

“Oh?” Jaskier says, seemingly more confused than ever.

“Romantically.” Geralt clarifies.

“Oh. Oh! Oh wow!” Jaskier says with rising enthusiasm, a grin breaking out across his face. All the regret rising up in Geralt gives way to the closest a Witcher can feel to elation. “That’s great! Fantastic news really, because I have been ‘romantically interested’ in you for the past 23 years! Haven’t stopped, really, even after you broke my heart!”

“Oh.” Geralt says, and he can practically here Ciri roll her eyes beside him. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh, now Ciri turn away, I’m going to smooch our Witcher’s face off.” 

Ciri giggles, obediently covering her eyes, as Jaskier launches himself into the arms of the seated Witcher, curling his arms around him and pressing his lips to his.


End file.
